Halam'shivanas
by Tabitha of MoonAurora
Summary: In the wake of Solas' disappearance after the Breach was closed, Enya Lavellan searches for new purpose in the ashes of a life she once thought certain. Her choices, her love, her loss, her sacrifice all hang in the balance as she comes to terms with the fact that the Inquisition was more than she thought it ever would be. (Will contain Spoilers for DA:I Tresspasser)
1. Prologue: Sacrifice

Halam'shivanas

Prologue:

The mouth of the pit was wide and the Tevinter ruin that towered above it had crumbled away in spots. The rushing howl of wind filled the cavernous opening to this lair, like a lonely wolf on a moonless night. The solid stone rose high above her as she stepped forward, as bared-faced and determined as the rocks around her. She was alone, and she needed this. This was her decision; she felt it in her very blood as the ground shook with each breath the dragon took.

His shoulders slumped. She watch him fumble with the pieces, a child with a broken toy. There was such an intense loss on his face that she'd felt her heart clench and shatter for him, despite the pain anger for which she had him to blame. There was relief too, relief that he was alive, that any of her friends were alive, but especially him. The Breach was gone, the sky healed, but for a scar. And yet here Solas sat before her as though they'd lost the battle.

'I'm sorry,' she had said, for she sensed the importance of this artifact, though she had no way of knowing why it grieved him so to have lost it, 'I know you wanted to recover it whole,' And when he did not turn she grasped for something to make him feel better, 'perhaps we could repair it.' She stopped herself from reaching out, though her body trembled in staying her hand. Then he did turn and his face bore the blank palour of regret.

The dragon shifted in its sleep. Hot breath billowed from the dragon's nostrils and the pit filled with the steam of melting ice. It seemed to thaw her heart as well, allowing her frustration, her pain to fill her. She shoved it away, cool, icy discipline taking her. It was the only way. She raised her right hand to the sword, _Halam'shivanas_ , slung across her back.

"The sweet sacrifice of duty" a name that seemed all too appropriate for what she'd given up in the last year. Her clan was gone, her family taken, people had given their lives in service to her. She'd given up her freedoms, taken the weight of Thedas on her tiny shoulders, given everything so that the world wouldn't be swallowed up by the crazed dreams of an immortal man who'd brought more pain to the world than any other. Yet the greatest sacrifice she'd made, was not one she had noticed. It had been slow to capture her and until he was gone, she had not realised the transformation. It had stalked her through each step she took, spread its jaws to trip her as she drifted into love, and finally tore into her with its shining ivory teeth when her vallaslin were gone. In all her careful pride, Enya had forsaken her Dalish heritage, for though she still felt a great connection to it, she knew that no elf would recognize her birthright now.

'It is beyond repair,' he had replied and she saw the flicker of pain, hopelessness in his eyes. She had known it, grasped for anything to give him hope, but he bore that absent, troubled expression she could only find in the corners of his eyes. In that moment, he seemed so incredibly old. She had nodded her acceptance of this simple fact and made her way toward the steps to join her comrades, hoping he would follow, knowing he wouldn't. 'I want you to know that what we had was real.' She'd sucked in a breath and turned to him, her eyes as green as the Breach had been. met his, as stormy as the healed sky had become. It was a small moment, one that lasted an eternity, and then she turned away, biting back tears to savour her victory. Even if it didn't feel like one.

Enya drew her elvhen greatsword, and wielded it with one hand. Her eyes danced in the mist from the dragon's breath, even as she reached deep within herself to listen to the voices of the _Vir'abellasan._ They whispered to her, in clear lilting phrases, for the longer she heard them, the stronger they became, the stronger she became. To attack this dragon in its sleep would be low and thoughtless, lacking honour. She focused her will, directing the elements that roiled inside her to cut free an icicle. It fell behind the gentle curve of the dragoness' wing and she awoke with a spine-chilling roar.

It had come as a surprise to Enya when, a fortnight past the defeat of Corypheus, her dreams had grown cold and twisted and she found herself deep in the Fade. She had awoken to the voices of The Well and found herself shivering in sheets of ice. Enya had told no one, convinced herself that this episode was but a strange happenstance and fell back into sleep. But it was not an isolated incident.

The dragon's roar ended in a scalding stream of fire that sizzled past the delicate taper of Enya's ear as she danced forward and to the side, erecting a wall of ice before her. She wended her way around the dragoness' Faded magic, staring at the emerald glow of her eyes as she sunk _Halam'shivanas_ into her flank.

Enya told no one at first, choosing to keep her strange dreams and creations to herself. It seemed that a fitful and touched mind might be at fault, for she'd never heard of magic awakening in someone past their sixteenth winter. Still, it persisted and she allowed the gentle, caring voices of Mythal's ancient priests to hone her quickly into proficiency, yet they offered no explanation.

The dragon roared and lashed out at her, but Enya had expected the blow and ducked underneath the creature to avoid it, cutting into her tail in the process. She sent a ball of lightning upward into the dragoness' soft underbelly and reached out with her mark, to feel her adversary's mind. It was confused, erratic thoughts flying questioning, a drive to great aggression yet without purpose. Empathy overwhelmed Enya, for she knew this blindness.

'You have a new heart inside you,' Cole had said as she past him on the ramparts one day. It had been two months and her practice of magic and the sword had left her aching both mentally and physically. It was so simple a phrase, so innocent, and yet his words confused her. She had asked him for more. 'sweet breath, the smell of coco on your face. The sheets are cool against hot skin. Soft whispers. Your name, his name. _Ar lath, ma vehnan_. Silence. Sobs shake the shoulders but end in anger. A forgotten promise deep in the belly. It hurts, but there is happiness.' And then she understood all too well.

She cut into the dragon's front leg, digging deep beneath the scales to where the muscle parted, ushering her to the bone. The roar of pain filled the air but she could not hear it. She had gone numb, all sensation lost. The world around her faded into blurs of color as she forced herself to act with a warriors instinct, lashing out with the Mark and her magic as well as her sword. Enya had grown extremely proficient and this was her test. She was pushing herself to the breaking pointing, off on her own to best a high dragon, driven by her need for answers.

Enya wasn't afraid of death. Falon'din had haunted her steps from the time she was a child. First her father, her mother, now her Clan, to join them in the Beyond seemed almost a blessing, but for the burden she carried on her shoulders and the responsibility she carried inside her. What she did fear was failure. The doubt that came with Cole's words, the questioning that had filled her threatened to engulf her in an abyss of indecision. And so she'd decided to fight a dragon, leave her own fate up to her skill. If she survived, then it was time to reveal the secrets she'd been hiding, and if she failed…then the Inquisition would pass into Cullen's capable hands.

She stumbled backward, knocked off balance by the swing of the dragon's tail. It caught the back of her heal and sent her sprawling on the ground. A burst of ice, little shards, flew toward the dragon's confused eyes and ripped into them, blinding her. Enya used the time to leap back onto her feet and break the air above the dragoness with an emerald rift. The dragon reared, her eyes rolling and slammed her forefeet into the ground where Enya had just lain. It erupted with flames, but she was safe. The dragon began to disintegrate, her very essence pulled into the Fade through the tear in the veil. Enya charged forward and plunged her blade into the dragon's chest. She watched as the last bit of her fell away and felt the dragoness' peace as her madness was lifted.

The rift hissed and cracked and Enya closed her eyes and listened to the sound, now familiar as crickets in a summer garden. The fog of her breath clung to her eyelashes in the frosty afternoon sunlight. She raised her Marked hand and closed it tightly, crushing the light that flowed from it. The implosion echoed through the ruin, bouncing off the walls in endless percussion. She opened her eyes and watched the stillness of snow.

* * *

It had not been long enough for Cassandra to ascend the Sunburst Throne. Preparations were well under their way and Josephine often informed the Seeker of just that. It was nearly always met by a disgusted sigh, as though she regretted that she had been chosen. While Enya knew quite well the hatred her friend had for pomp, she also knew that Cassandra saw that it was necessary. The months that she had stayed with the Inquisition had helped Enya more than the Seeker, could ever know.

As Enya rode up the pass outside of Skyhold, it was Cassandra's angered face she knew she would see first, likely followed by Cullen and Dorian in quick succession. She called her black coursier to a halt as she reached the first set of Inquisition banners and stared up at Skyhold, her home. Its grey towers climbed upward, reaching and pressing against the clouds. Tarasyl'an Te'las, it was called, the place where the sky was held back, and she couldn't think of a better metaphor. Not for the first time, she wondered who had built the fortress that now stood a top that mountain and what had stood there before. These were questions to which, try as she might, she had not been able to find answers. More fodder for the endless pile of mysteries that had become her legacy.

The wind stung as it snagged on the helm of her rich emerald cloak and tugged it along a ragged cut across her collar bone. She shivered as it bit through her clothes and armour, chilling her to the depth of her soul. Enya glanced down at her hands, the pink ends of her fingers peeking out from the ends of her gloves and sent a warming blast of fire from them. Her stallion shied and she calmed him with a few quiet words. Theneras was him name, for he was the color of night, the time for dreaming and together they had fought nightmares.

Enya grasped her reins in one hand and clucked to Theneras. He began to walk again, slow steady strides that lulled her. She found her free hand had come to rest gently on her stomach. Cole's words repeated in her mind, 'You have a new heart inside you.' And with that thrill of fear, she found reassurance.


	2. Chapter 1: Ma Da'vhenan

Enera became the center of her world. In the beginning, it had been an instantaneous bond, the kind that only a mother and daughter could know. Every time the infant smiled, Enya felt a crushing warmth blossom in her chest. Even now, as she watched Enera chase a butterfly made of flame around the garden, she rested in its grasp. Enera turned to look at her for a moment and giggled, the soft infectious gurgle that only a very young child could produce. Nearly two now, Enya thought as she watched her daughter's stormy eyes dance, following the butterfly's path. It was all too easy to use magic frivolously, but the _Vir Abellasan_ had been a more than adequate teacher, and coupled with the efforts of Morrigan and Dorian, she had accomplished more as a mage in two and half years than most could expect to in a lifetime.

The butterfly vanished as a clearing throat interrupted her reverie. Enya ignored her daughters whine of disappointment and turned to Josephine. The Antivan noble settled onto the bench next to her. Enya could not tell whether it was anger or anxiety that painted her face, but the expression was enough to set her on edge.

"There has been a letter," Josephine handed her a scroll, "Val Royeux is calling an Exalted Council."

The years had passed quicker than Enya cared to admit, though while they were passing she had felt time draw on her like an anchor. Through countless questions and endless diplomacy, Enya had been forced to fight through pain, through anger, through loss, to earn her place as a leader Thedas could respect. That had not been made easier by her pregnancy.

She'd stayed quiet, kept the secret between herself and Cole, until the day she had killed that dragon. It was right before Cassandra departed for Val Royeux, this time for good. Enya's disappearance, and the subsequent panic it had caused among the Inquisition's advisors had delayed the coronation and ascension rituals by two weeks. When she had finally returned, battered and bloody, to Skyhold's gates, she had been greeted by an irate Tevinter mage and a worrisomly silent Divine. 'How dare she go off alone! It was entirely unfair to slay a dragon without him' Dorian had commented, a sardonic cover for his anxiety. Cassandra had been much more subdued in her response. It had taken her several hours of fussing and forcing Enya to report to a healer before the former Seeker finally voiced her frustration.

It was in this moment that Enya confessed her pregnancy. The incoming Divine had been stunned into silence, one that culminated in a stilted shoulder pat and an 'I am happy for you, Inquisitor.' Enya had spotted the question in Cassandra's eyes, the curiosity that a romantic heart might apply to such situations. 'Who?' was the question her dearest friend wanted answered and the very thought of saying his name caused her throat to close. So she had nodded and smiled and thanked Cassandra instead.

In fact, Enya told no one. Once word spread among the noble courts of Thedas, her silence lead to wild speculation. This wild rumor mongering became the bane of Josephine's existence, even after the child was born, the courts were fascinated by the question. Of course, Enera's birth had narrowed the list of possibles considerably. Enya apologized to Josephine so many times for the inconvenience that eventually they both agreed that it was not even worth the exchange.

At first Enya had been perturbed by the speculation, felt that she was being put up for show, but Dorian, master of talk, had convinced her that it was all for the best. 'At least if they're all caught up in who you've slept with, they've gotten past the fact that you're having a child out of wedlock.' This comment had been marginally successful in stemming a tide of anxieties and tears prior to a rather grand Orlesian ball in her fifth month.

The guessing was not, however, limited to the Noble classes of Thedas. Enya's title as the Herald of Andraste meant that the story of her impending motherhood was a household tale. The Inquisition was not immune to this disease either. In the month following her announcement, Leliana had informed her of at least seven different betting pools on the father of her child. Even some of her closest companions had weighed in. After one long night of drinking and Wicked Grace, The Iron Bull put money down on himself. Neither Enya, nor his Chargers, nor Varric had let him live it down.

Of course, Varric had not had long to berate Bull. His departure for Kirkwall came a month after Cassandra's ascension into her title as "Divine Victoria." Everyone had missed Cassandra, even Varric. Though he had been loath to admit it, Enya could see the glimmer of sadness in his eyes when he would walk past the training dummies, the former seeker had frequented. That was the thing about Varric, his begrudging judgment and needling of everyone around him was his only way of expressing his appreciation, the meaner he was, the more he liked you.

Enya had missed Varric greatly, but he was quick with a letter and she received word from him almost every month for a time. His departure had weighed on her to as it marked the end of everyone who had been there when she first realized her fate. She was not one to wear her emotions on her sleeve, however, and so she carried on.

Dorian, who had originally intended on departing soon after her closure of the Breach had chosen to remain for a full year. As Enya's pregnancy progressed, he inserted himself as the dear and concerned friend he always had been. He stayed at her side, defended her with his life and all for the sake of a deep friendship they had cultivated. There were times when Enya wondered, a Tevinter mage and a Dalish elf, thick as thieves, but it only served to remind her that they were beyond their identities, that their friendship was the very epitome of everything the Inquisition stood for. He was with her through the birth of her daughter and insisted on remaining until she knew she could handle the baby herself.

However, he couldn't stay forever; as an Altus he had duties to attend back in Tevinter and if he hoped to change the Imperium, he could not do so from the outside. Though she was deeply saddened by his departure, it gave her hope, for she knew Dorian was the champion Tevinter needed, whether it wished it or not.

Strange though it might have seemed, the best advice she received was from the apostate mage, Morrigan. They had found something of a kindred understanding in the revelation that had been Enya's announcement. At the time, Enya had been overwhelmed by the prospect, still in grief at her loss, she had discovered the pressures of an unwed pregnancy in the public's eyes to be too great a burden to bear.

It was a chance encounter in the Chantry garden, icy light bouncing off a full moon that encompassed the sky that Enya had voiced her concerns to the witch. She had been kneeling on the ground so long her knees ached with the cold, her hands tucked around the gentle curve of her stomach, crying. It was not often that she did so somewhere so public. Morrigan had approached her and knelt next to her. The woman told her the story of her pregnancy and subsequent raising of Kieran. It was far from happy and fraught with moments that Enya caused her to question the mage even more, however, it was clear by the end of the tale, the Morrigan regretted nothing of her experience. 'In the eye of the nobility, it is best to appear as though you have the right.' She counselled 'Once you do, their thoughts will often align with your own.'

Morrigan remained until a week after Enya gave birth. This arrangement was decided on that night for two reasons: Enya had grown to trust Morrigan, despite advice to the contrary and wished her to aid in the birth, and Morrigan provided an avenue of aid in other matters regarding her burgeoning magical talents. The _Vir Abellesan_ had given her great help in learning to control, produce and direct her magic, but theory was nothing when compared to practice. Morrigan helped her to hone and shape her magic into a skill worthy of some of the greatest mages. Enya's advisors had presented a united front against her embrace of her powers and confidence in Morrigan, but she had chosen not to heed their words.

Morrigan proved to be a diligent and demanding teacher, but Enya, clinging to the desperate desire to push beyond her situation, to embrace her role as a legend despite all that had happened, made for an excellent pupil. After months of disapproval, Dorian even leant a hand in her teaching, with the caveat that sparring would stop due to her advancing pregnancy.

The Inquisition had seemed much smaller after Dorian's departure, yet their numbers continued to grow. Young hopefuls from Ferelden who had heard or witnessed parts of her tale flocked to Skyhold in the hope of making a name for themselves. Orlesian Chevalier tired of the endless politicking resigned their commissions and joined the Inquisition for a simpler life. On occasion they would receive young thieves and orphans from Kirkwall that Varric had deemed 'too talented to rot in prison.' They joined the agents of the Nightingale. To her surprise, elven numbers in the Inquisition even increased, though none were Dalish like herself or Lornanil. Even the Chargers experienced an influx of hopefuls though most were turned away.

After a year, however, these volunteers turned to malcontents, the requests they'd received for aid grew more and more begrudging, hostile even. King Alistair, whom had at first supported and even called on their aid, began to request estimates on Inquisition numbers in Ferelden and tithes for Caer Bronach. Empress Celene and her comrades remained jovial and welcoming, but beyond the Empress, unrest was stirring. Enya noticed the tension, the unease, creeping into the halls of Skyhold. All powers rise and fall, but she did not think the deeds of the Inquisition would so easily be cast aside.

Enya wore a sling across her front to carry Enera when she was riding. Though most would consider it ill-advised to bring her daughter to a council so fraught with tension, or even out on the road at all at such a young age, Enya was loath to leave her behind. She could not forget that no matter how it had been sealed, the Eluvian offered direct access to Skyhold to anyone with sufficient knowledge and power to use it. Mythal's intrusion with Kieran came to mind. The kind of person that would know how to work an Eluvian was not the kind of person she wished near her daughter.

She lifted herself and Enera onto Theneras' broad back and drew her cloak around her. The wind sweeping through the Frostbacks was bitterly cold, a reminder that winter was again close at hand. Enya turned to grasp the hem of velvet as the envoy descended into the valley and paused at the view of Skyhold high above them. Again, she wondered how anyone had ever lost such a grand fortress. It was so isolated, so well-guarded, surrounded by high walls and steep cliffs. Any keep can be taken from the inside. It was a bleak thought, one that left Enya uneasy. A thrill of fear filled her and she couldn't shake the premonition that when she returned to Skyhold, the Inquisition and she, would not be the same.

Enya coaxed vegetables into Enera in the tavern where they had stopped for the night. Halamshiral was blessedly close to Skyhold, despite the rather circuitous route required to navigate the out of the mountains. Even when the weather was ill-favoured for travel, it only took three days to get there. Enera pushed the carrot away for the fourth time. Enya cursed Scout Harding for giving her sweets.

"Mana." Enya scolded, "Ma avemah, Enera."

Enera gave her a wan smile that Enya was always surprised to see on a child's face, but there were times when despite her ebony hair, she look unnervingly like her father.

"Tel'bradhe," Enya argued and when her daughter refused to give way, she added, "Mala!"

Enya spoke to Enera almost exclusively in Elvhen. The Well of Sorrows had given Enya a perfect, almost fluent understanding of Ancient Elvhen. It was one thing that the voices helped her to learn that had not caused her any turmoil in her beliefs. She cherished the ability to speak her People's language without difficulty for it seemed as if the words were built for her tongue. It was clear Enera was equally enthralled by the language for even though she knew common, the little girl spoke in Elvhen unless common was unavoidable.

This game was getting tiring. Enera seemed to sense this for she took the next carrot proffered to her with a sullen chomp and Enya let out a sigh. She rubbed her temples with her fingers and took a swig of the ale the Innkeeper had been kind enough to offer free of charge. They had booked the tavern to occupancy, she supposed.

"If you're not careful, she'll be as stubborn as you."

"So long as she doesn't use it on me, I think that would be good for her."

Enya turned to look at Cullen as he sunk onto the bench next to her. The wood gave off a faint creak and she raised an eyebrow.

"Are you sure you've been training enough Cullen? I think the bench is complaining."

She took another drink of the ale and handed Enera another carrot. The little girl ate this one with less fuss. She did, after all, actually like carrots. It was still far too easy to get to the Commander. Enya smirked as he blushed.

"I am certain what I do is adequate, Inquisitor," Cullen shifted on the bench, eliciting a second creak, which only served to make him more self-conscious, "Maker," she heard him hiss under his breath.

Enya chuckled at him before she grew serious, "What is it, Cullen?"

Cullen took a drink and swallowed before answering, "I want you to know, Inquisitor, that I will remain with the Inquisition through whatever fate this Exalted Council decides. My place is as Commander of your forces until I can no longer fulfill that role."

"I'm glad to hear it."

She looked down at her hands clasped around her tankard of ale. Her mark ached slightly, though it had hurt less since she'd closed the last rift.

"But Cullen, you know I know that."

The former Templar gave her a half-smile, "It never hurts to hear it again. Especially when it seems the people who once looked to you for answers might have decided you haven't any more to give."

Enya nodded, "In that case, it is much appreciated, Cullen." She licked her lips, handed her daughter a piece of eggplant this time, and took another drink, "Will you be alright, seeing Cassandra again?"

Enya had discovered their tryst late in the Inquisition's conflict with Corypheus. She could never be sure when it started, but in the Arbor Wilds she'd heard them the first night. She wasn't particularly shocked by the discovery, there had been signs. Both placed a great deal of faith in the other and both were driven people who'd suffered a great deal of loss in their lives. It was natural, she supposed, for them to seek comfort with each other. Enya had never even been certain how deep the relationship ran. Whether it was a momentary fling or an encounter of two lovers separated by differences of duty too great to overcome, she couldn't say. Either way, she could still remember the expression on Varric's face when they had kissed goodbye after Cassandra's coronation.

Cullen's face turned deep scarlet, but he laughed it off, "Your concern is touching Inquisitor, but I assure you, The Divine and I will have no trouble seeing each other again."

"Oh, I see." Enya smirked at him.

The commander choked on his drink and, patting dry his front, he replied, "Maker's breath, I didn't mean it like that!"

She patted him on the shoulder, "Take it easy, Cullen. I'm only teasing." Enya rose from the table, "You have a terrible habit of phrasing things just so. It is hard to let such opportunities pass by," she finished her ale and set the tankard down on the table before picking up her daughter, "Goodnight Cullen." She paused and then added, "I am glad that this meeting will not cause you any trouble."

"Goodnight Inquisitor," Cullen called after her, his face still tinged with color.

Enera peered over her mother's shoulder, her sea-grey eyes curious, "Atisha era." She called to him.

Enya was glad to see as she reached the stairs, that the concerned crease between his eyes had vanished, replaced by a light smile. She pressed a kiss to the top of her daughter's head.

"Atisha era, ma da'vhenan."

a/n- So I didn't actually mean for that scene to be so fluffy, but I wanted to show that time has passed, give you guys a little bit of a sense of the endgame for what happened post Inquisition for my characters and set up a little bit of a sense of Enera's character. Also, Elvhen that has not been used in the games (most of Enya's conversation with Enera) is credited to Fenxshiral and Project Elvhen over at Archive of our Own. It is a seriously fantastic resource.

Oh, and translations of course

"Mana." "Ma avemah, Enera." – Stop. You will eat/are going to eat, Enera

"Tel'bradhe," "Mala!" – No pastries/sweets/cakes. Now!

"Atisha era" – sleep well, lit. peaceful dreams

"Atisha era, ma da'vhenan" – Sleep well, my little heart.


End file.
